Further than I have ever travelled beyondalong the edge of the earth, there lies a park. In the garden, rises a hill which–in a show of abandoned fear, with closed eyes, one can roll down, taking the plunge to fear’s eternal sin, emboldened fruit sweeter than hesitation.

And there lies a path, atop the steep hillinscribed with stonesmarking time for those who reached for the golden ringunclasping captivity’s bindand straight seeing, freed from regret, never turned to bid the world good-bye.